Needing Emily
by baywing
Summary: Emily Prentiss is a fallen agent, felled with a bullet to the chest and on the operating table. As her survival hangs in the balance, those closest to her are forced to contemplate the role Emily plays on the team, her place in their lives - Both professional and personal.
1. Chapter 1

**AN. I do not own _Criminal Minds_ nor associated characters.  
**I'm not 100% on where this is going - I'm exploring my own writing through this story and these characters and having fun with it!

**Emily Prentiss is a fallen agent, felled with a bullet to the chest and on the operating table. Her teammates anxiously await an update on her condition and Aaron reflects on Emily as a friend and colleague.**

* * *

The stern Unit Chief stood in the corner of the family room, his dark, brooding eyes trained sightlessly upon the door and his thoughts elsewhere. Even now, one of his agents was fighting for her life. Even now, she might be bleeding out on the table or slipping into the abyss. To Aaron it seemed unthinkable that one stray bullet could end the life of the unstoppable woman, that one bullet could finish Emily Prentiss when she had survived countless injuries and ordeals in her time with them. Could a bullet end all of this, all that she was?

He thought of her, not as he had last seen her – A broken shell of a woman flat-lining in the back of an ambulance with a bullet through her chest – But as she was. He thought of her dark eyes, full of compassion and knowledge, courage, the flash of cunning he saw in them when she had an idea. He thought of how, when she smiled, her eyes smiled too and how they so perfectly represented her honest soul and the depth of herself when she could otherwise conceal it so well. He thought of her big grin and the way she shook her head in pleasure, her dark hair bouncing at her slim shoulders. He thought of her bitten nails, the way she gnawed at them absent-mindedly in moments of anxiety or distress. He thought of how, when he annoyed her, her mouth would open and close in irritation as she struggled to verbalise her feelings. He thought of her infinite patience and of her love for her colleagues and teammates, the times she had reassured and supported each one of them – the rock of the team. Aaron Hotchner's brow furrowed in distress. The team _needed_ Emily. He needed Emily.

The small creak of the door in its hinges was loud in the oppressive silence.

"Emily Prentiss?" A bespectacled, nervous looking young doctor enquired, stepping tentatively into the room. Derek and Spencer stood up immediately, and Aaron saw Penelope clutch at JJ's hand like a child seeking reassurance. Dave, like Aaron, maintained his steady stare across the small room. "That's us."

"She's out of theatre and on ITU, just down the corridor. It was touch and go in there but it seems she pulled through." The doctor announced as Penelope let out a long breath, tears of relief rolling down her face.

"C – Can we see her?" Spencer asked the question on everyone's mind as he ran a long-fingered hand through his messy hair.

"She's still out. When she comes round she'll be confused, and very weak. It's better if you take it in turns, maybe go in pairs if you must, rather than crowd her."

"Understood," Aaron said, speaking for the first time since the youthful doctor had entered the room and trying hard not to trip over his words or choke, trying hard not to show his utter relief that Emily was still alive. He knew he needed to maintain his posture and control, like Dave, as a leader of this team. _Emily was still alive_. For the moment at least, his team remained whole.

"I'll take you all over now, you can see for yourself. Then maybe one or two of you can stay with her, be there when she comes round. The rest of you can be provided with updates in the morning." The team rose and bags were hitched onto shoulders, glances shared.

"Thanks," JJ and Spencer muttered simultaneously as the team filed out behind the doctor, Aaron and Dave at the rear as they strode along the corridor, this silent family whose missing element was lying in a hospital bed down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN. I do not own _Criminal Minds_ nor associated characters.  
**Thanks for the feedback on my first upload. This remains an exploratory piece of my own writing and my writing of the characters and I'm seeing where it goes. Also, I'm British - I don't know all the words for things like "operating room" instead of "theatre" as a reviewer pointed out, so you will have to bear with me, US friends!**  
Many thanks and enjoy.**

**Aaron anxiously awaits the awakening of Emily as she lies between the hospital sheets.**

* * *

"She looks so small," Penelope murmured, tearfully, as she stood at the window, gazing into Emily's room. Aaron knew exactly what the analyst meant as he looked into the bed where his crumpled agent lay, dark hair messy on the white pillow, slender fingers lying upon the scratchy hospital blankets, hooked up to a multitude of imposing machines. At least the team were satisfied that their Emily was alive. Broken, but alive – and she would recover. Of this, Aaron had no doubt. _Nothing_ could hold a determined and ambitious Emily Prentiss back.

"Who's staying?" Derek turned to his teammates with one black eyebrow raised.

"I am," announced Aaron without a second thought, not a moment's hesitation. "I'll let you all know the second she wakes up, but you need to go and get some sleep." To Derek in particular, he added, "that's an order." His imperious voice dared them to argue, but they did not. Instead, with a final look into the room of their fallen friend, a final glance at the machines surrounding her bed and a final glimpse of the brunette between the starchy sheets they dispersed, each of them going home to what Aaron knew would be a futile shot at slumber.

Aaron approached the door of Emily's room falteringly, pushing on the handle that would admit him to her grey-walled chamber, in the middle of which she lay asleep. He paused in the doorway, taking a moment to digest the sight before him. Aaron was not a weak man. He was famous for his unwavering austerity and professionalism, but he was far from detached. On the contrary, he was deeply personal. His team knew him to be fiercely devoted to each one of them, the unit and his job. In terms of dedication, the only rival to the BAU was that which he held for his beloved son, Jack. And so he faltered, unnerved by the helplessness and injury of one of the most resilient people Aaron had ever known – their rock.

"Hey, Prentiss," he murmured, dropping into the uncomfortable vinyl chair already at her bedside. Emily remained enveloped in deep sleep, as he had known she would, and he sat back in the chair, extending his legs beneath her bed in order to depress any budding cramp within them. His eyes slid shut and he once again heard the deafening shot that had floored Emily, heard Derek's cry – "She's hit! Agent down!" – And the volley of retaliatory bullets that had ended the life of her shooter just moments later. It had all happened in the blink of an eye. Aaron sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. If only Emily had been safely strapped into her vest – If only that attack had been on their terms, had not been a surprise, if only, if only, if only… The steady bleeping of the bedside machines brought him back to himself, to the bedside of his sleeping friend and agent and out of the haunting memory.

His gaze slid from her messy hair spread over the pillow, the shadows surrounding her eyes and her mouth, twisted into a slight frown as she slept, to her thin wrists resting upon the sheets and the IV in her hand. He could hardly believe this was Emily who, only yesterday, had playfully teased Spencer, who only yesterday had laughed with JJ and Penelope and shared a joke with Derek, a coffee with Dave and one of her smiles with Aaron.

He remained sitting at his agent's bedside, his head full of the machines' bleeping and Emily's shallow breathing, as she had once sat at his as he lay between those scratchy sheets with those machines hooked into him.

**-o-**

"Excuse me, Sir?" Aaron was numb in half-sleep, and dimly felt the nurse rocking his arm. "Miss Prentiss is starting to wake up." Sitting up slowly, he dragged his hand across his tired face, eyes reluctant to open and body loath to wake. He became aware of his aching limbs, his sore back as he arched it in the uncomfortable hospital chair. _A hospital chair_.

"Emily?" He mumbled, opening his tired eyes blearily.

"Sir," He once again felt the young nurse shake his arm gently, and finally focused his eyes upon the stirring agent beside him. He stood, suddenly awake, and gripped the side of her bed.

"Emily?" He said quietly, his gaze unfaltering as he stood eager to be nearby, to reassure her when she awoke, "It's Hotch." Stealing a glance at his watch, Aaron saw he had slept for almost an hour. Emily's fingertips twitched upon the sheets as she stirred, and her dark eyes fluttered open intermittently. Aaron waited patiently for her to become conscious, waited for those telling eyes to open and betray her muddled mind and for her brow to furrow in confusion, as he knew it would. Seconds later, brown orbs clouded with apprehension opened to the grey walled room on ITU and Aaron knew Emily was finally back with him.

**-o-**

Emily screwed up her tired eyes, blinking in the glare of lights above her. She registered the Unit Chief at her bedside and the machines at her head, announcing the steady rhythms of her heart to the room.

"What the hell?" She croaked, trying to sit up in the bed and finding herself too weak to do much more than prop herself up on an elbow. A doctor and a nurse were insisting she 'rest', pushing her gently back down into the pillows. "Hotch?" Emily scanned the space above her and her eyes once again made contact with those of her concerned supervisor; his anxious expression and haggard appearance were so out of character that for a moment Emily struggled not to laugh. "Hey, you've seen better nights' sleep." She grinned slyly, her eyes sliding shut in exhaustion.

"You can hardly talk," Aaron smiled without meaning to at Emily's cheeky jibe, raising an eyebrow in amusement, relieved that she seemed almost herself. "Do you remember what happened?" He asked in an attempt to regain his composure.

Emily bit her lower lip thoughtfully – another of her many habits – and Aaron knew she was revisiting the shooting in an attempt to remember the events of the evening. "I think I might have got shot," she eventually said, and Aaron admired the lack of emotion in her voice. "And I'm pretty sure I was in an ambulance. And now I'm here and everything's moving so – guess I'm doing okay!" Her voice was husky. She grinned once more, although the smile didn't register in her shadowed eyes. She even attempted a little laugh, to illustrate just how okay she was, and Aaron knew she was kidding no-one.

"You're going to be in here a few days, you took a bullet to the chest and it did some damage. You're lucky to be alive, Emily." The brunette rolled her eyes, sinking into the pillows a little more. Aaron recognised the tiredness in her voice and movements, but he also recognised Emily's determination to ignore her body.

"Where's everyone else?" She enquired, studying the ceiling above her as she tipped her head back into the pillows, as the doctor finally vacated the room and the nurse completed her obs.

"At home, asleep I hope. I promised them an update the second you woke up or they wouldn't have left." Emily smiled, shaking her head. "I'll get a text out and tell them you're back in the land of the living and already annoying your care team." The brunette smirked, raising her hands to pick at her nails impatiently.

"Tell them to bring in the files on my desk; if I'm stuck in here then-"

"No chance, no files. Magazines and board games only, Prentiss." And although his expression remained serious, although he remained their stoic Unit Chief, Emily saw a flash of amusement in his clever eyes and smiled to herself. "I'm going for coffee, try to sleep, please." With a last concerned glance into the face of Emily, Aaron Hotchner strode from the room, leaving the agent to sink sleepily into her hospital sheets, letting her eyes slide shut and allowing her exhaustion to overwhelm her.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN. I do not own _Criminal Minds_ nor associated characters.  
**Light hearted exploration of team dynamics. Garcia because I adore her. Thanks for the feedback! That is all. Enjoy.

**Emily has three important visitors to her bedside - The bubbly analyst, the coffee-laden Media Liaison and everybody's favourite genius.**

* * *

"_Emily_!" Penelope squealed as she flounced into the private room Emily had commandeered for her stay at the hospital. It had been just a few days since her shooting, but in another couple of days she'd be allowed home. The brunette's eyes twinkled with delight as she pushed herself up in the bed, wincing slightly.

"Hey, PG," she grinned helplessly at the bouncy analyst as she dropped onto the bed beside her, clutching her pale hands. Penelope's searching eyes studied the face of her friend feverishly, as though this were the last time she'd ever see her.

"How are you feeling, sweetness?" Her voice was soft, bright almost, but Emily knew that emotion was threatening to overwhelm the analyst as she perched at the edge of the orange bedspread.

"I'm fine, Garcia," Emily twinkled, disguising the pain with a smile in an attempt to reassure the usually spunky blonde, "_honestly_! I'm feeling so much better already."

"You forget, I know how you feel." Penelope replied, looking over her bright frames and raising her eyebrows in a manner that any high school librarian would be proud of.

"Seriously, Garcia, I'm fine." Emily squeezed the fingers of her friend. "Is everyone okay?"

Penelope sighed. How like Emily to dismiss the fact she'd been shot through the chest and enquire after the other team members. "Everyone will be better once you are out of here, gumdrop." Emily smiled. "But they're okay. Reid and JJ are bringing up coffee – Hotch got us the afternoon off."

"Oh, coffee," Emily mumbled longingly, throwing her head back with a moan. "The stuff they give us up here is hot water, Garcia, you have no idea."

Penelope chuckled, "Oh, I do, sweet-cheeks, believe me. No fear, JJ is well-acquainted with your usual and you shall be appeased momentarily."

"Did Reid bring the book I begged him for?"

"But of course. Also, cola-bottles. The kid knows you too well, Em." Penelope winked, laughing at the excitement that filled Emily's face at the thought of coffee and sweets. Hospital did nothing for this kick-ass brunette, that much was certain. Sliding from the bed, Penelope instead arranged three chairs at the agent's bedside, of the same limb-cramping variety in which Aaron had recently spent a long night in contemplation beside a sleeping Emily.

"I can't wait to get out of here," Emily groaned as she watched. "I hate feeling useless." Penelope offered a sympathetic stare, dropping into the chair closest to the brunette.

"Hate to break it to you, sweetness, but you're not going to be kicking UNSUB backside anytime soon. Hotch will have you on desk-duty for the next decade if he gets his way."

"He won't get his way," Emily shared a conspirational grin with the analyst, and Penelope did not doubt her words. Keeping Emily out of the field until she was properly healed would be easier said than done.

"Hey, Emily," Spencer called as he came through the door, clutching several books, what looked like a few issues of Emily's favourite comic and a bag of sweets. Behind him came the spritely media liaison, laden with coffee and wearing a smile that spread right into her bright blue eyes at the prospect of seeing her friend.

"How are you feeling, Em?" JJ enquired as the pair came to rest at her bedside. "It's so good to see you." Like Penelope, JJ gave her hand a gentle squeeze, aware that a hug would probably pain Emily.

"I'll feel better once I have some decent coffee down me," Emily replied, happy to see her friends. "I'm doing well, Jay. I can go home soon." She grinned as the small blonde handed out the coffee, Penelope smacking her lips in delight and Spencer beaming at the simple reunion of friends.

"Morgan sent these," from his pile of books he slid the comics, and a well-thumbed copy of _Slaughterhouse-Five_. Emily laughed, wincing at the pain in her chest as she leant forwards, plucking the novel from the bedspread. "He knew you'd like that." Spencer gave a small grin before dropping his own offerings at her bedside. "I got cola-bottles because I know they're your favourite."

"There's a lot to love about you, Doctor Reid." Emily's dark eyes sparkled and Spencer smiled modestly, half to himself.

"When do you think you'll be out of here, Em?" JJ enquired, still sipping her coffee beside an attentive Penelope.

"My doctor reckons two more days," the brunette rolled her eyes, "so my release is two days too far away for my liking. And then I have to rest at home." Emily sighed, and JJ understood her reluctance to sit at home, bored, when her days were usually filled with the profiling of serial killers.

"I bet Hotch will let you take desk-duty home," Penelope offered, "as long as you don't overdo it. He probably knows as well as we do that if he doesn't you'll find another way to strain yourself _anyway_." The analyst raised her eyebrows and shook her head at the agent.

"I'll be cleared for work in no time," Emily said as though trying to convince herself. "Even sitting around at the bullpen doing paperwork would beat lying here or knocking around at my apartment." She tipped her head back to the ceiling in quiet frustration.

"Just _chill out_, Emily," JJ ordered, "and drink your coffee before it gets cold."

The three agents and the technical analyst sat, swapping gossip and laughing, for another hour or more. For JJ and Penelope, who had seen their friend only briefly since her shooting, the reunion with Emily was happy, and they were pleased she seemed so herself – so together. So much the usual infuriatingly awkward, cheeky, clever _Emily_. Spencer had seen her just the day before, and was pleased to see that even between his visits she had improved, was pleased he could ease her boredom even a little by his deliveries of comics and books and sweets. He had to admit to himself, there was not much he wouldn't have agreed to deliver in order to make her stay easier – anything short of case files, anyway. Emily was a well-loved member of the BAU family, indeed.

Later, once the coffee cups were drained and the topics of conversation that day exhausted, once the cola-bottles had been devoured (with considerable help from Penelope) and the shadows had begun to lengthen, it was time to say goodbye.

Penelope squeezed Emily's hand carefully, promising to visit as soon as she got five minutes and to bring her fluffy unicorn of health-giving. The big eyes behind the bright frames blinked away tears and Emily reassured her friend she'd still be here in the morning, and the next day until she finally got to go home – and then she'd be just down the road and still _here_. And soon she'd be back at work and back to exchanging witticisms over the phone with the bubbly analyst.

"I'll see you soon, Em," JJ stood at her bedside and collected her coffee cup from the small table at her head. "Ring me when you're cleared for discharge and I'll pick you up the second I'm free." The dainty blonde promised with a small smile.

Spencer also promised to see the brunette soon - Emily considered that she would not find herself short of visitors once she got home, at any rate – and swore to talk to their Unit Chief about letting her have some work to do from home.

"Love you, gumdrop, take care!" Penelope gave a little wave as the small crowd bustled through the door, each of them taking one last look at her through the window of her room as they hurried down the corridor.

Emily sank back into her pillows, worn out from the constant conversation of the last hour or so and the excitement of seeing her closest friends again. She had missed Derek, but supposed he would visit another time. Stifling a yawn, she turned her head to the books upon her bedside table and, reaching gingerly across so as not to pain her chest so badly, pulled out _Slaughterhouse-Five_. She grinned; smiling happily to herself as she reflected upon the times spent laughing and joking with the team in the bullpen, or on the jet. The thought of them comforted her as she lay there, beneath the garish, itchy hospital blankets in her private room with her favourite book open in her lap.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN. I do not own _Criminal Minds_ nor associated characters.**

**Emily's lift home arrives in the doorway of her hospital room and it is not who she expects. **

* * *

Emily Prentiss was finally, after much quiet grumbling and a few winces, out of the starchy hospital gown and into her own clothes. Admittedly they were far from her usual attire – trackies and a baggy t-shirt – but it wasn't like she was going into work. She rolled her eyes impatiently, picking at her nails. Maybe she should have just gotten a taxi home after all – JJ must be rushed off her feet between work and Henry.

Emily jumped as the door opened, grimacing in pain and nudging the dressing tentatively, "Ouch, Jay, you made me jump."

"Sorry," Emily recognised those dulcet tones, and it was not JJ stood in her doorway. "I didn't mean to startle you." She heard the smile in his voice as she turned to him, brow furrowed.

"Hotch?" Emily suddenly wished she _wasn't_ sat in her trackies and baggiest, faded grey top.

"Unfortunately for you, Prentiss," Hotch said as he studied the brunette as she perched at the edge of the bed, tendrils of dark hair snaking at her shoulders and dark eyes returning his inquisitive glare, "JJ couldn't make it to pick you up. So you've got me."

"Oh it could be worse," Emily smirked, pushing herself up off the bed. Aaron watched her face as it momentarily betrayed her discomfort and watched as the look of pain faded, as the brunette regained her composure.

"I'll grab that," Aaron offered, stooping for Emily's bag as she walked slowly towards him, measuring her movements. He sighed. It was hard to see his agents fall, and hard to see them weak as they fought to recover – hard to see Emily struggle, harder to know that even if he wanted to help her right through this she wouldn't let him.

"Thanks," Emily mumbled begrudgingly, and Aaron knew that she was grateful – just too stubborn to admit she'd needed the help. She sighed as she came to his side. "I _hate_ feeling useless," she admitted.

"It won't be for long. You can come back on desk duty in a few weeks – desk duty _only_, mind – and you needn't feel useless. I'm sure you'll find plenty to strain yourself at." A shrewd smile touched his lips, and Emily grinned despite herself as the pair sauntered out into the corridor.

"How's the BAU?" The brunette kept pace with her supervisor with ease, although she registered the change in his usual gait and knew he was slowing himself to accommodate her injury. She refused to allow her discomfort to show in her face, keeping her dark gaze steady.

"Quiet. JJ's not thrown anything across my desk in the last week or so, so we're still grounded at Quantico. We haven't drafted in a temp to cover you yet, anyway." It took Aaron a moment to notice Emily had frozen several paces behind him, gaping wordlessly.

"You – why do you need to temp me up?" She choked. "I'll be back in just a few _weeks_, Hotch! I could be back sooner!"

"Prentiss, you know we can't go into the field an agent down without any investigation suffering. It's _temporary_." Aaron made sure he placed emphasis on the final word. He had no intention of replacing Emily Prentiss – he didn't think there was anyone who _could_ replace Emily Prentiss. But she couldn't see that. Instead, her brow furrowed in barely supressed offence and Aaron lamented the stubborn streak that made this brunette so difficult on occasion.

"And you know that sticking someone new in for a few weeks is going to mess up the team dynamics, distract everyone and any case will suffer anyway." Emily fixed Aaron in her piercing gaze, her dark eyes challenging him, daring him to disagree.

"Emily, you know Strauss." Aaron offered, making a point of addressing Emily as Emily, and not Prentiss. "If she says bring someone in I have to bring someone in."

The brunette nodded her dark head in reluctant agreement. "Fine," she said huskily, arriving level with the Unit Chief. "_Temporarily,_ right? As soon as I come back -"

"You'll be back. We couldn't replace you if we wanted to." Two pairs of dark eyes softened in the hospital corridor. Emily nodded once more.

"Of course you couldn't," she smirked, "Reid needs a chess opponent who can _play_ the game on those long flights."

**-o-**

"Prentiss," Aaron chided Emily as she stumbled into her apartment, "go easy." He followed her through the doorway, her bags across his shoulders, and kicked the door closed behind them. He watched as Emily headed quietly for the sofa and noted the lack of her rebellious grin – the kind that he usually received in response to any reproach.

"Make yourself at home, Hotch." Emily gestured for him to follow her through.

Aaron was no stranger to his colleagues apartment, having visited before now – usually on business and once to deliver a drunken brunette home after an eventful night out with the BAU. He and Emily were friendly, as much if not more so than he and Dave. She'd been there for him every time she'd needed him, and he for her. Now was just another one of those times. He stepped quietly into the apartment, heading for the kitchen without invitation. He knew what Emily needed.

"Coffee?" He enquired, already in the kitchen and reaching for mugs.

He registered a small groan of relief from the brunette on the sofa. "Yes please," he heard the tension ease in her voice, "God, I've missed good coffee." Aaron chuckled to himself as he prepared the hot drinks; taking special care to make Emily's exactly how he knew she liked it.

Wandering into the living area, clutching two plain mugs of coffee, Aaron was amused to find Emily curled on the sofa, her hair messy over the armrest, captivated by a rerun of one of her favourite Sci-Fi's. He was less amused to note the small hand over her dressings and the lack of her usual lightness. He missed the way she seemed to brighten a room in simple presence, and he vowed once more that she would regain her animation. Emily Prentiss _would_ recover.

"Coffee," Aaron set down a mug in front of the agent, who he saw was still engaged in the television.

"Thanks, Hotch," Emily said, tearing her eyes from the screen and offering him a small smile. Carefully and slowly, she sat up, swinging her legs off of the sofa to make room for the Unit Chief beside her. He dropped into the sofa with care not to jolt her.

"How're you feeling?" He asked, observing her quietly.

"Just tired," Emily assured him as she cupped the mug in her thin hands. "I'm glad to be home. I'd feel even better back at the BAU."

"Prentiss – take a few weeks. It won't kill you to relax." Aaron shot the brunette one of his unblinking stares, daring her to argue. "Morgan's coming over tomorrow; I think he'll bring Reid. Who will _not_ be bringing you files to work. And I'm sure JJ and Garcia will be over soon. Even Dave's determined to check up on you." Emily smiled weakly at this news. She missed her teammates dearly – they were her family and friends, the people she spent all day, each day in the company of. Morgan and Reid, her brothers, she could tease for hours and laugh with all day. JJ and Garcia, her sisters – the girls she turned to when she needed a chat or a gossip or a sneaky night out on town. Dave, the pillar, the listener – everyone's first call for support, including hers. And Hotch, their supervisor, the man sat beside her making sure she was okay, being her boss and friend rolled into one. She felt his hot dark eyes on her, studying her. He was an observer. She rarely saw him blink. She turned her head silently towards him, dark hair falling from her shoulder.

"Hotch, I need to ask you something." She announced, her compassionate but now serious dark eyes locking with his, his concerned gaze penetrating her soul.

"Go on," He tore his eyes from her, taking a gulp of his coffee.

"Well…" Emily trailed off, sinking back into the sofa so he had to turn his head to see her. "Are you seriously telling me that if _you_ were wounded, you wouldn't want to be back at work the second you were on your feet?" A mischievous smile graced her lips. "Oh yes! I remember-"

"Don't even go there," Aaron fixed her in a business-like glare, immune to her impish smile (or so he pretended). Emily folded her arms across her body, mindful of her movements and desperate to betray no pain. "I'll review you in ten days," Aaron suggested, "and if I think you're ready to come back to work in two weeks, maybe three instead of the month-"

Emily beamed, and Aaron watched as it spread to her eyes. She had the uncanny ability to melt his resolve – easier said than done in the case of SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Thanks, boss," she twinkled, and he offered a begrudging smile. He really agreed with the doctor. Just because she could work, didn't mean she should. And he'd be keeping her on desk duty as long as he could manage – although he did wonder if that would have to involve tying her to her desk in the bullpen. Once more he lamented the combination of stubbornness and intelligence, logic and charm, humour and compassion – all the things in this woman that made her so difficult on occasion, and yet so wonderful.

"Well," Aaron said, pushing himself forwards in the sofa, "I had better get home and see Jack. We've not been too busy case-wise but with one thing and another…" He trailed off, and Emily appreciated his meaning. He hadn't spent a lot of time with Jack over the last week or so, and she knew the hole in her chest was to blame. She offered him an apologetic smile.

"Good idea, Hotch," she said, "I'm fine now so _please_, do _not_ worry about me." She knew him well – and she knew he'd worry regardless. "I'll call you, or Morgan, if I need to." She promised.

"Make sure you do, Prentiss." He now stood in front of her, picking the empty mugs up from the coffee table. "I'll do these on my way out, you stay put," he fixed her once more in his unblinking gaze. "If you need _anything_-"

"Hotch," Emily's voice hardened, "I'm _fine_."

They shared a final glance, two pairs of dark eyes locked together in a silent battle of wills, speaking of overriding care and friendship. They seemed to communicate almost telepathically, and in moments Aaron had torn his unfaltering gaze from his colleague and headed for the kitchen, almost missing Emily's sly smile and her cheeky glance; almost missing the tiny expression of pain in her pretty face as she moved a little in the wrong way. _I'm fine_, those eyes had screamed, _I'm fine_. Aaron only hoped that was the truth.


End file.
